


so, how much?

by thebetterbina



Series: the gentlemen [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 富豪刑事 Balance:UNLIMITED | Fugou Keiji: Balance:Unlimited (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drug Mentions, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Marijuana, daisuke as daisuke, featuring harry and tom as ur friendly local drug lords, insert ben affleck smoking meme, it is 3am please send help, this entire fic is because of ells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/pseuds/thebetterbina
Summary: “So, how much?”A pin-drop silence follows, punctuated by Harry saying,veryslowly.“... excuse me?”Prequel to the main events in Fugou Keiji and my own AU, featuring Daisuke getting slapped because he mistakes a twink for a sugar baby.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Kanbe Daisuke, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Kambe Daisuke/Katou Haru, if you take five steps back and squint theres a ship
Series: the gentlemen [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690606
Comments: 16
Kudos: 97





	1. first meeting

**Author's Note:**

> proofread done by the amazing [fura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furafurari), send some love their way!
> 
> we have a [FUGOU KEIJI SIMP DISCORD SERVER HERE](https://discord.gg/cYh4dA3), feel free to join we're all heathens <3

Tom remembers the first time he met Daisuke, if only for the sole fact of how  _ sweet _ that memory is to recall each time.

* * *

Harry, for all intents and purposes, ran the business. Tom Riddle was the anxiously whispered name in casinos between drug lords, or  quietly murmured between street dealers in back alleys. Tom was the face, fists, and green fingers that started the business―but Harry held the paperwork, dealt with the contacts, paid each of their hardworking employees their monthly fat checks.

Harry also had, notorious among their own men, a short fuse.

Not that it’s anyone’s guess outside of their business, Harry has a pretty face― whether that played  to his advantage or not Tom isn’t quite sure. There’s not much you can get out of being called beautiful in their nitty, gritty business with men that smelled like gunpowder and liquor; though at the same time, it’s a weakness that Harry holds on to like a weapon. Poised and sharp, a lovely rose hiding away it’s thorns until it’s touched.

Which brings him to the current point. Harry furiously tearing into a poor pilot who looks like he’s on the verge of tears, desperately trying to explain in stuttered English that they  _ can’t _ move the plane unless their owner arrives.

Tom is truthfully late to a meeting, though he’s not particularly bothered―he’d suggested using another runway, it’s not like this is their  _ only _ jet―but Harry had been more than stubborn.

“We’re waiting for  _ one _ person to take off, five minutes won’t kill us.” 

Five minutes stretches to an hour, which puts them to where they are right now. 

Not that Tom bothers with pacifying Harry, his attention is drawn more towards the less than subtle commercial plane; black with gold striping and  _ Kambe _ written boldly on the side. The rolled out red carpet and harried flight attendants are telling too, either they’re waiting for a number of important guests―or this is just one incredibly rich bastard.

(Tom had joked about getting one of those, but Harry had smacked the idea down. They had private jets for themselves and cargo aircrafts for their goods and that was  _ enough _ .)

He thinks he’s heard the name  _ Kambe _ before. However little details like these tend to slip by him, and it’s not a familiar name that runs within his circles, Harry might know.

「何か問題があるのか」

The smooth Japanese is new to Tom, and he  _ knows _ he’s landed his eyes on the man of the hour. It’s the posture, the slicked hair, finely tailored suit and cigar between fingers. Or perhaps it’s the gaze, distant and entirely disinterested―someone with time and far too much money to burn. 

“ _ You’re _ the one they’ve been waiting for?”

Harry rounds on him like a missile with a new target, his face in a tight frown and spitting words like they’re venom. It must make a sight, Tom thinks, for a stranger―he knows he’s constantly amazed with how much anger is compressed into Harry’s body, ready to burst at a moment's notice. 

“Yes.” 

It’s said so simply, he can feel another notch rising in Harry’s annoyance. The stranger takes a long drag of a cigar, those pricey  _ Havana _ one’s he knows go for a pretty penny―Tom isn’t a fan of the aftertaste though, settling for his own trade because it's comforting. 

“We have been  _ waiting _ ―”

Tom drowns out the rest of the tirade, choosing instead to take note of the other faces around them, almost all in shock and face rapidly paling; so, a very important guy then. Though he understands their shock, most of them probably also don’t realize he and Harry are the ones with guns in this situation.

(Not that he’s planning to let anyone else clue in on that fact, it’s  _ uncouth _ to pull a gun on an unarmed man anyways.) 

His own eyes flicker back to the man, who’s giving Tom a pointed  _ look _ which Tom only shrugs back at in return. He doesn’t control Harry, and his poor wife would most likely turn the anger on him if he wasn’t careful. Best to just let the tide rip. The stranger’s attention turns back to Harry, who has yet to honestly stop the verbal abuse, grey gunmetal eyes rake Harry’s form―it’s enough for Tom’s hackles to rise just a little because he  _ knows _ . It’s interest, the vaguest sense. The gaze that takes Harry in, from the face that makes strangers trip over, to his body packed neatly into fine cashmere sweaters and slacks. 

Then back to Tom, who’s indifference is evident, who’s dressed to the nines in a full suit and coat. And oh―oh no.

The man puffs out a cloud of smoke, lips curling on the sides to a telltale smirk,  and that's when he hears the words.

“So, how much?”

A pin-drop silence follows, punctuated by Harry saying,  _ very _ slowly.

“...  _ excuse me _ ?”

“How m―”

  
The resounding  _ slap _ is a shock that garners legitimate gasps from the onlookers. 


	2. patron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisuke learns that throwing money at his problems might not solve them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> proofread done by the amazing [fura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furafurari), send some love their way!
> 
> we have a [FUGOU KEIJI SIMP DISCORD SERVER HERE](https://discord.gg/cYh4dA3), feel free to join we're all heathens <3

“HUESC, facial recognition.”

“ _ Understood _ .”

His A.I. responds with an obedient chime, already mapping out the details of a face so heavily set in a scowl directed at him. He lets his eyes flicker over to the other, allowing the computer to do a quick scan. He drowns out the low music of the emptied lounge bar, focusing on what details flicker within his peripheral. 

HUESC pulls up the first photograph and it’s much nicer than the  face full of glower in front of him now, along with little details printed neatly along the side detailing a short dossier of his life.

_ “Harry James Potter, only son and heir to a Lord family in England. Dropped out of Oxford at twenty, has since been disinherited from his only living grandparents. Going by Harry Evans, taking his mother’s maiden name.” _

The screen wipes clean, and the second photograph appears. 

_ “Thomas Matthew Riddle, British expatriate, American born. Received a full Oxford scholarship, however, dropped out at twenty-two to pursue a career growing and selling cannabis.” _ A beat, HUESC condensing another set of information.  _ “Thomas Riddle is the owner of Britain’s most extensive underground cannabis drug ring, with buyers that cover the majority of Europe. Harry Evans is his chief of operations.” _

_ Ah, _ Daisuke thinks to himself, hiding a smile behind a gloved hand, no wonder why he’s being glared at so harshly.

HUESC finishes with,  _ “Their business is currently worthed at two hundred billion dollars, estimated worth in the future to be half a trillion dollars.” _

He slips the glasses off, folding them neatly and sliding them back into his pocket. The last piece of information is surprising, and it’s what he least expects―he sees the two and he expects some kind of lovers retreat, his mind doesn’t wander to a  _ drug lord _ and his  _ right hand _ . It’s not obvious at first glance, but it is the more he looks; the way the bodyguards defer to Harry just as much as they do to Tom, the way Harry holds himself too, poised and fierce, not at all simpering after Tom the way money-oriented lovers tend to be.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding.” He intones smoothly in English, still remembering the slap that had left a red print. Being a  _ Kambe _ usually meant people feared the direction he so much as breathed, so having two that didn’t immediately become meek at the mention and knowledge of his last name was … refreshing.

“I apologize for slapping you.” Harry gripes out, brows pinching as if it was the most difficult thing he had to say. Harry doesn’t technically have to apologize, it was his fault for assuming―the effort is appreciated, however.

“He gets this every day, trust me.” Tom chuckles, relaxing into the leather seat, “I keep telling him to upgrade his wardrobe beyond just sweaters and cardigans.”

“They’re a good look on you.” Daisuke responds evenly, a genuine compliment, and Harry does―makes him look younger than he is, all tousled black hair and thick glasses like a college graduate. Nothing like the ruthless enforcer he has on file of this petite man. He thinks Harry would look nice in a suit too, expensive  _ Versaces _ and delicate  _ Tiffany _ jewellery. 

He shakes the thought from his head. “I’m willing to compensate.”

Harry scoffs, “For what? That slap? I’m not a haughty little miss that needs payment for emotional damage.” Lithe fingertips wrapped around the champagne flute, taking a delicate sip. “Unless you’re offering to buy my business.” It’s probably said in jest, with the way Harry snickers at the idea.

A pause.

  
“I could.” 

He’s the target of sharp green eyes now, and Tom, though unconcerned before, also narrows his. “It’s a suggestion. You already know my name and its worth, and I know the both of you are professionals in a market that could be easily bought out with a signature.” Instant retirement, it sounds frankly boring, but to any normal person it would be a ticket to paradise.

The pin-drop silence that follows is deafening, all before Tom breaks it by barking out a harsh laugh. “That’s mighty  _ generous _ ,” Tom replies, it’s said sarcastically in a low drawl, Texan from what Daisuke can guess. “But trust us when we say we’re happy right where we are. Ain't that right, darlin’?” 

“We are indeed.” Harry is smirking now, and isn’t that a look on his face, that sends a thrum of  _ want _ to possess this man for himself who speaks with all the imperious confidence of a lion. “I am  _ not _ , and our business too for that matter, for sale.”

It’s the first time money hasn’t gotten him what he’s wanted, and Daisuke inexplicably feels the thrill of it. He can tell it doesn’t matter how many zeroes he adds to a check―these two are predators with their teeth sunk into a piece of meat they won’t be willing to share. He feels a twang of disappointment, after this encounter he doubts he’ll ever see the two again.

“However,” Harry adds, “We won’t be opposed to having another … patron.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm active [on my Twitter](https://twitter.com/therealconnor60)! (´,,•ω•,,)♡


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